The Cutest Little Boy
by PieceOfShit96
Summary: Otis is adopted by a young couple who soon uncovers the horrors that this little 8 year old albino has been through.
1. Chapter 1

The little boy trembled under his father's fist, red eyes staring widely back at him.

"P...please..."

"I am so fuckin' tired of your shit, boy!" His father punched him; blood ran from his nose in a crimson river. "Always grovelin' and whimperin' and cryin'. Fucking pussy piece of shit mother fucker." Another blow, making the boy's vision cloud with bright colors and his head swoon. "Not grateful for everything we do for you, but you fuckin' complain about everything we don't! Fucking piece of shit! You're the fuckin' devil's son! Your whorin' mother fucked good ol' Lucifer one night I was on the road. You stupid son of a bitch!"

"I'm sorry, daddy! I'm sorry!" The small boy sobbed, trying to guard his face.

"Now I'm gonna fuck you just like he fucked her!"

"NO! NO DADDY PLEASE! I...I'LL BE GOOD! I'M SORRY!"

"You think you can fuckin' get out of it? No. I'm gonna do whatever I want to you you little pussy piece of shit."

"NO!" He tried to struggle away from his father, to no avail; the larger man picked him up and threw him onto the bed.

"Did you just DEFY me?! DID YOU TELL ME NO!?"

"N...N...No...D..Daddy...I...I'm begging you...please..."

"Ohh. I like that. Beg."

"H...Huh?" He heard the clink of his father's belt coming out of the loops, felt the cool metal graze his skin.

"BEG ME." His father cried as the hard slap of the leather cracked against the little boy's flesh.

He screamed, tears welling up in the corners of his eyes. "AH! PLEASE!" He shrieked.

Another crack. Another. Another. Until he thought his skin would shrivel up and fall off of his back, his father beat him, forcing him to beg for mercy.

"Take your pants off. You little slut."

The little boy began to shake. "P...Please no, daddy...Please..."

"BASTARD I SAID TAKE THEM OFF!"

More fearful of his father's creativity for torture than what he already knew, he obeyed.

"Now, if you obey, I won't chain you up. Deal?"

He whimpered, trembling uncontrollably with fear. He knew the pain all too well. Knew what was about to happen to him.

Once his father was satisfied and had ridiculed him, he was released from his clutches, resting on the bed where he had just been brutalized.

"D..daddy...Wh...Why do you hurt me...?" The little boy asked, tears brimming in his eyes.

His father shrugged. "Because we were bored one day and we liked the sounds of your screams."

The simple, curt answer would have deeply disturbed any sane man, but it's depravity was lost on his father.

That night, the little boy heard his parents talking in their bedroom, and listened closely. It wasn't often they talked rather than just screamed at each other, and he wondered if there was any love in this god forsaken hell-hole of a household.

"Tim, I'm gettin' bored with him. He ain't nothin' but a money pit. Yeah it's all fun and stuff, but I'm bored with it. It's the same shit all the time."

"We'll figure somethin' out...We could have someone adopt him, y'know. Make us some money, too, finally, instead of just spendin' it all."

"Hey! You're right! You're so smart, baby!"

Hope flittered in the boy's stomach. Would he actually see the other side of life? Would he finally escape this madness?

But then doom overcame his visions of happiness. Would he escape into something much worse? Were his parents the kinder side of society?

It wasn't long until a couple knocked on their door. The little boy was scrubbed clean and put into his best clothes, which were still rags that hung off of his body in a shiftless form.

"Hello, sweetheart..." The woman of the couple knelt in front of him, smiling softly and sweetly. "You're going to be coming home with us. Is that okay with you?"

The boy nervously looked back at his father, who scowled at him. Swallowing heavily, he nodded.

"Wonderful! Have you got your things, honey?"

"I...I only have this..." He turned slightly to show a backpack he was hauling. He spoke quietly, as if everything was a question he didn't know the answer to.

"Well, that's okay. We'll get you some new things, alright?"

The little boy nervously glanced at the woman's husband. He was tall, but had a softness to him that he didn't quite understand. It was alarming contrast between his parents and this new couple.

"Come along, sweetheart. Let's get you back to our home, alright?"

"O...Okay..." The little boy obediently marched beside them. He was loaded into a car and buckled in by the kind woman's soft hands. Hands he noticed were markedly unlike his mother's.

"I forgot to ask you, buddy...What's your name?"

"H...Huh?"

"What do they call you, sweet heart?"

He paused for a moment, looking down abashedly. "Th...They call me all kinds of mean things..."

"Sweetie..."

"M...My Daddy's name is Tim...a...and my Mama's name is...is Harriet, I think...B...But they ain't never called me nothin' but stupid..."

"W...Well what would you like to be called, honey? What's a name you like?"

He thought for a moment, then quietly answered, "O...Otis..."

She smile at him, hoping she would illicit the same response. "I like that too. We'll call you Otis, then."

The drive back to their home seemed like a long one, and Otis dozed off in the back seat. Once they arrived, the woman gently unbuckled him and stroked his face. "We're home, sweetie. Wake up, Otis."

He jolted awake in alarm, pulling away. His eyes were wide with horror and he trembled.

"Shh, sweetie it's okay. It's okay." She reached to caress him once more, but he flinched, tears brimming in those crimson eyes she was already entranced by.

"P...P...Please d...don't hurt me..."

"I would never, sweetie. I would never."

He was led into the house and up to his bedroom. The house wasn't elite, but it certainly was better than his home.

"This is where you'll be staying, little man." The husband said as the door closed behind them. Otis jumped when he heard the latch click, and dread overcame him. "What's the matter, buddy?"

Otis could feel himself trembling as he peered up at the man. "W...W...What're you g...gonna do to me...?"

"What? Nothing...Help you unpack if you want me to. Show you around..." He moved to the closet, opening it and gesturing to the hangers. "Look! These are some of Macie's brother's old clothes. But I think they'll fit you. Why don't you try some on, huh? It'll be fun!"

"O-O-O-Okay..."

"I'll leave for a moment. Just come out when you're ready, okay?"

Otis nodded. He slowly undressed, wincing at the wounds that still remained from his father and mother's abuse. He selected a gray v-neck sweater and jeans. They were unlike anything he'd ever worn- there were no holes in them. They were well-made and sturdy feeling.

He wandered out into the hallway, where the man was standing. "Wow! Look at you!"

"H..Huh?"

"You look nice...Th...That's all..." He sounded confused, concerned.

Dinner was another fiasco entirely. Otis sat at the table, extremely anxious. Would they beat him if he actually ate? Would they beat him if he ate too little? Too much? If he didn't eat? He stared at his plate, his stomach growling. He had never seen so much food in one place before.

"What's wrong? Aren't you hungry?" The woman- Macie- asked.

"I...I...I..." Otis stammered.

"I can hear your stomach growling from over here!" The man laughed. "Don't you like anything?"

"A...A...Am I allowed to eat..." He questioned.

"Wh...Of course honey..." Macie murmured. "Why wouldn't you be?"

"B...B...Because I...I..."

"Whatever reason you're going to come up with isn't true. Eat up. You need to grow up big and strong." The husband answered.

Otis ate slowly, watching them carefully. He covertly stored some of the food in his sweater and stashed it under his bed in his room. He had no idea when he would eat again, and found it best to be prepared in case they starved him.

That night, Macie lovingly tucked him in to his bed. He trembled, flinching as she touched him so sweetly, so tenderly.

"Honey, why are you flinching like that?"

"W...W...What're y...you going to do to me...?"

"Nothing, sweetie..."

"A...A...Ain't you gonna chain me? O...or tie me down?"

"No...? Why would I?" She stroked his face, kissing his forehead. "Goodnight honey. Have a good rest, and we'll see you in the morning, okay?"

"O...Okay..."

"Honey...Would you feel better if I locked the door? It locks from the inside...So you can open it, but we can't..."

He nodded shyly. He heard her click the lock, and it wasn't long before the soft mattress and warm, cozy blankets lulled him to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

When Otis awoke, he slowly padded across the floor and opened the door, wandering into the hallway.

"Hey, little buddy!" The husband greeted him. "How did you sleep?"

Otis nodded in response.

"Come on downstairs with me. Let's have some breakfast." He followed obediently into the kitchen, where Macie was joyfully whistling and cooking.

"Goodmorning, love." Her husband wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her sweetly. He couldn't help but feel his spirits lift. Maybe he had lucked into some relief.

"Goodmorning to you, too, handsome!" Macie greeted Otis. "Aww, you look so sleepy! Did you have a nice sleep?"

Otis nodded again, sitting in one of the chairs as he rubbed his eyes.

"Now, today we're going to take you to the doctor, okay? I know it doesn't sound fun, but I want to make sure you're healthy."

"Doctor?" Otis cocked his head.

"Y...Yes...Haven't you ever been to a doctor?"

"No..."

Husband and Wife exchanged a glance in which a thousand words of deep concern were spoken.

Otis sat patiently in the waiting room, eyes wide with wonder and fancy. He had never seen anything like this building in his life. He heard his name called, and they went back into an examination room.

The doctor was a shriveled old man, unimposing as a man could be. But Otis had learned in particular not to trust men. He bristled instantly as the doctor touched him.

"How old are you, Otis?" He asked.

"S...Seven..."

"Oh! Quite a big boy, I see!"

"Yes. He's quite a man." Macie smiled sweetly, winking at Otis.

"Let's get your weight here. Hmm..." The doctor reeled back. "35 pounds?"

"Is...Is that bad?" Macie asked.

"He's...a bit underweight..."

"We...We just adopted him...We have no idea what..."

The doctor nodded. "I see." He easily lifted Otis onto the exam table.

Reminded of his father throwing him onto the bed and having his way with him, Otis began to tremble, whimpering in fear.

"What's the matter? Why are you scared?" Macie asked. "It's okay, honey."

"You're alright, son..." The doctor moved to touch Otis, but he flinched away, tears threatening to spill. "Shhh..."

"Please don't hurt me. Please don't hurt me. Please don't hurt me..." Otis begged mechanically, as if by sheer repetition he could convince the doctor.

"I won't...I promise, okay?" The doctor stripped Otis's sweater over his head, making him scream in agony as his wounds were jostled.

He stumbled off of the exam table, huddling into the wall, trying to make himself as small as he could.

"Oh, god..." Macie murmured, shocked by the bruises and welts that littered the boy's body.

"Dear...Dear lord..." The doctor sighed shakily.

Otis was too scared to complete any kind of examination. Every move the doctor made caused him to flinch wildly. By the time the doctor had pulled him out of the corner, he was hyperventilating, begging and screaming for him not to harm him, sobbing hysterically.

"I-I...I think he's fine other than the obvious. If anything comes up, please let me know. But I...don't think it's worth stressing him like this to complete a physical."

Macie sat on the floor with Otis, rocking him back and forth, stroking what little hair he had, trying to calm him down as he shook and sobbed. She nodded in response to the doctor, and kissed Otis's forehead. "You're fine, sweetie. You're done. It's okay. It's all over. No one is going to hurt you. Okay? No one. I promise. I absolutely promise that no one is going to hurt you anymore. I won't let them hurt such a sweet little boy." She pressed another warm kiss to his forehead.

Once she had finally settled Otis's desperate sobs, leaving him hiccuping in her arms, she picked him up, holding him still closely to her. "I bet you're tired now, huh, sweetheart?"

Otis nodded into her shoulder. He was terrified, still, but he had weakened himself.

"Let's get your shirt back on and get you back home, okay?"

"Okay..."

"You can take a nice long nap there." She helped him pull his shirt on, careful not to jostle his injuries.

Otis again fell asleep in the car on the ride home. But to his surprise, when he awoke, he was already tucked in neatly to his bed, a stuffed bear beside his head. Macie was sitting in a chair next to the bed, watching him.

"Hey, sleepyhead." She smiled sweetly. "I got you a present."

"H...Huh?"

"You were so zonked out in the car, I figured I would pick out what I thought you would like."

"H...hnn...?"

She handed Otis the stuffed bear. He carefully took it, as if any wrong movement would end in it being taken from him.

"Now. That bear is very special. Do you know why?"

He shook his head.

"Because it's yours. And yours alone. And no one can take it from you." She rested her hand gently on his arm. He flinched slightly, gasping softly. "Oh, sweetie..."

Otis squeezed the bear tightly to him, relishing in the feeling.

"Good. Now listen to me. Any time you're scared. Any time you're in pain. You squeeze that bear. Any time your uncomfortable, squeeze him. You don't have to tell us why, but we'll try and fix it for you, okay?"

"O...Okay..." He answered meekly.

"Now, that doesn't me an that's the only time you can squeeze him; you can squeeze him whenever you want. But that's how we'll know you're not okay without you having to tell us, okay?"

He nodded.

"Sound like a deal?"

He let himself smile slightly "Deal."

Macie smiled widely. "You are the cutest little boy, oh my goodness!"

"W...what?"

"Hasn't...Hasn't anyone ever said that to you? That you're unbelievably adorable?"

He shook his head.

"Do you know what that means?"

"Y...Yes..."

"Of course you do. You're smart."

Otis looked away.

"What's the matter, sweetie?"

He paused, avoiding her gaze for a moment, then looking her in the eye. "Y...You're confusing me a whole lot."

"Why's that?"

He shifted, uncomfortable with the conversation, but willing to engage. "I...All my life I been told I'm stupid and ugly and fat and the devil's child...A...And now you're tellin' me I'm smart and...and cute and handsome...and that doctor today said I was underweight. I don't understand..."

"Baby, this is how life is supposed to be. Whatever you experienced in the past is wrong. It is so wrong. And I want you to know that and understand that. What they did to you is not how little boys should be treated. This is." She stroked his face lovingly, softly, letting her index finger trace his cheek lightly. "You're gonna get better, sweetheart."


	3. Chapter 3

Otis heard the young couple talking later that evening in surreptitious whispers.

"Abram...He...he was so scared...His little body was just shaking so hard...And...All those bruises and welts he had...oh my god...Th...They were awful...How could...How could anyone _do_ that to such a sweet little boy..."

"I don't know Macie...I...W...Were any of them fresh? Do we need to take care of them?"

"I don't know...He...He's so thin, Abram...I didn't notice it until I..." She shook her head. "I don't understand..."

"Was he healthy otherwise?" He asked hesitantly, almost unwilling to know. He had heard enough about the boy's tragedy. He wanted to hear something positive. Needed to. He feared the worst, however.

"The doctor couldn't examine him...He was too upset and he was just so scared...He was fine until the doctor picked him up and put him on the table...Then he started shaking and when he took his shirt off he really got scared. He ran off the table and trapped himself in a corner like...like an animal trying to escape..." She paused; Otis could hear the tears in her voice. "What happened to our precious little boy, Abram? Why is he so fearful?"

He heard the sweet slick sound of a kiss, and a softness in Abram's tone. "I don't know, love. But he'll never have to go through anything like it again. Okay?" A pause, Macie whimpering in agreement. "Where is he now?"

"He's cuddled up with his bear I got him. Why?"

"I think we should check him out ourselves. See if there's anything we need to do."

Otis sleepily rubbed his eyes, clutching his bear as he peered into the hallway, seeing them approach.

Abram chuckled. "Hey, little guy! What've you got there?"

"M...M...M...My bear sh...she got me...I..."

"Wow! That's pretty nice! Do you like him?" Abram asked. Otis nodded, burying his face in the soft fur as he clutched it. "Hey, buddy...We're gonna take a look at you. Just to make sure you're okay. Is that okay?"

Otis nodded hesitantly, afraid of the consequence if he dissented.

"I'm gonna need you to take your shirt off. Come on, let's go in the bathroom."

He obediently followed Abram, tottering behind him, bear still clutched tightly to his chest. He took his shirt off and sat on the closed toilet lid as he was directed.

Abram's face paled when he saw the extent of the mutilation on the little boy's torso. "O...Oh god..." His hand shielded his mouth in horror at the bruises littering the pale skin. The angry purple and pink welts.

"...It ain't so bad..." Otis muttered, speaking not to Abram, but to his bear.

If Otis wasn't hallucinating, he swore he saw tears well up in Abram's eyes. Abram stood abruptly and Otis startled, flinching away and drawing in on himself protectively. "Oh, no, buddy. It's okay."

"Do...Do any of those ouchies hurt, sweetie?" Macie asked.

Otis stared back in horror. Carefully scrutinizing the situation, he began to tremble. Was he honest, admitting that they hurt- is that what they wanted? Would they be satisfied and not harm him any more? Or did they want him to be a man? Say that they didn't hurt? Would that make them beat him?

"It's not a trick, honey. I promise. Just be honest with us."

Averting his eyes, Otis answered shyly, "I always hurt...Somethin' always hurts...They hurt, but it ain't bad...I can take it..."

"But you don't have to, sweetie. Here, let me at least put something on those cuts and welts. Okay?"

"O...Okay..."

Otis had never had hands laid on him that were so gentle. Macie lightly dabbed ointment onto the injuries she saw fit, lovingly massaging the medicine into the skin. When she was satisfied with her work, she drew away, handing Otis his shirt. "All done." She kissed his forehead. "They should heal up faster, now. You'll be good as new in no time, cutie pie."

"W...What're you g...gonna do...?"

"Hmm?"

"T...To me..."

"I..." She shook her head, resetting her mind. "I was going to read you a story. How does that sound?"

"W...Why?"

"Because I want to spend time with you! Is that okay?"

"I...I can read..." He offered, hoping it would prevent any anger that may have been bubbling.

She smiled. "I have no doubt about that. Hey, maybe you can read me and Mr. Bear a story! How does that sound?"

Otis nodded. "Okay."

They sat in the living room together, Otis reading slowly, pronouncing words in a childlike manner and working his way through the plot of a fairy tale.

Abram sat next to Otis, then, tin pan in his lap, and knife and apple in his hands.

"Dinner won't be for a while yet. How about a snack?" He asked, beginning to peel the apple, letting the skin fall into the pan. "Do you like apples?"

Otis shrugged.

"Haven't you ever had one?" Abram asked. Otis shook his head. "Here. I bet you'll like them."

Otis carefully took the piece he was offered, cautiously staring at Abram for signs of aggression. He happily munched on the sweet treat, relishing in it's crisp taste.

"Told you you would like it." Abram smiled. He cut up the apple entirely, letting Otis munch freely. "Go on. Take another piece." He coaxed. "You can have as much as you want."

Food was a battle for Otis. He hoarded pieces of the sweet fruit in his cheeks, depositing them in his food stash when he retreated to his room to place his book back on the shelf. He did the same after dinner. Days passed until Macie and Abram noticed an odor coming from under the bed.

Upon their discovery, Otis begged and pleaded not to be beaten, sobbing at their feet.

"Buddy. Listen." Abram lifted Otis onto the bed. Otis's sobs redoubled, breaking into hysteria.

"Please...Please don't do that...Please...Not that...I...I'll be good. I'll be good! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Y...You can hit me just please not that. Please...Please..."

"Shhhh...Calm down. Calm down." Abram seemed alarmed.

"It's okay, sweetie." Macie soothed. "What don't you want him to do? What do you think he's going to do?"

Otis's face reddened and he curled into a ball. Macie offered his bear, which he gladly clung to.

"Okay. Listen to us, Otis." Abram began, placing a soft, warm hand on Otis's back. He jumped, staring at the man in bewilderment. "You will always have food here. You just have to ask us for it if you're hungry. You don't need to hide food away from us. You don't have to cache it away. You will never go hungry here. I promise you. Alright?"

"B...But-"

"No buts. You will always have food, as long as you want it. You don't have to do this, sweetheart. Alright?" Macie filled in.

"That's right. And we can always have snacks too. Okay? You need food to grow big and strong, so whenever you're hungry, you can have a snack. Got it?"

Otis nodded, shying away into his bear's soft comfort.

"Okay."

That night, Macie and Abram tucked Otis into bed, sitting on either side of him. Abram produced a plate of cookies and warm milk.

"How about a bed time story and a snack, little buddy?"

"W...What?"

"We'll have some cookies and milk and then we'll read you a story. Sound good?"

"B...B...But..." Otis stammered. He had never been allowed to eat so freely. Would they beat him if he made crumbs? What if he spilled the milk? Or dripped it on his sheets?

"What's the matter?" Abram asked, concern on his face.

"I...I...I could make a mess..."

"So? We would just clean it up then and carry on. What's the problem with that?" Abram cocked his head.

"I...I...Y...You won't be mad? You...You won't hit me?"

"We would never hit you sweet heart. We both promise. Okay?" Macie answered.

"O...Okay..."

"So come on. Can I share a cookie with you?" Abram asked.

Otis bashfully smiled. "Yeah."

Macie read the story while Otis and Abram listened. Otis began to doze off as the story went on, however, eventually cuddling up to his bear and succumbing to the warmth and love that radiated off of the couple, falling into a deep sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

While Otis was becoming more comfortable with Macie, he still felt very wary about Abram. He was a kind, gentle man, but Otis had learned not to trust men especially. They could not only hit you, but could abuse you in horrible other ways.

Macie and Abram sat at the kitchen table with their coffees early in the morning, before Otis had awoken.

"I...I can't even think what could have happened to him..." Macie lamented.

Abram shook his head. "I...He's especially scared of me...It breaks my heart. I just want to be a father to him, but he's so petrified...Yesterday, when he begged me not to do something, he said...He said something like 'you can hit me but don't do that'...What in the world could he have meant?"

"Well...We could ask him, at any rate. If you really want to know. I don't know that you do, though..."

"If it's something that could mean extra medical care or something, though...I want to know so we can get him the help he needs." Abram stared into his mug. "I don't want something to be wrong with him and just neglect him and have him suffering..."

"He's suffered enough in his lifetime...You're right, Abram."

Macie traveled up the stairs and into Otis's room. The sweet little angel lay sprawled in the bed, slumbering, bear clutched to his side. His hair was shorn when they had rescued him from the evil clutches of his parents, but it was beginning to grow, snowy and soft. She hoped he didn't want to keep his head shaved. He looked so adorable with the little sprigs of white blonde. She loved how expressive his eyes were. They glittered blue and purple and crimson in the sunlight, but in dim house light, they were a beautiful poppy red. He was unique, and she loved every bit of him for it.

He whimpered, face cinching in fear as he drew the covers closer around himself.

"Ohh, sweetheart." She soothed, gently stroking his face. "It's okay."

Gasping softly, he stirred awake, shrinking into the bed.

"Good morning, sleepy." She cooed.

He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, sitting up.

"You want to go downstairs and have some breakfast, love?"

He blushed lightly, clutching his bear to him once more. She knew he would still be bashful about admitting hunger.

"I think Abram is hungry. Why don't you come down and have some food, too?"

"Okay." He followed her obediently.

"Hey, there's my little pal!" Abram greeted, a little too loudly. Otis flinched when he turned in his seat to greet him; Abram's eyes dimmed in sorrow.

Macie helped Otis into a kitchen chair as she began to cook their breakfast.

"So, Otis...What've you got in that little back pack you brought?" Abram asked.

"U...Uhm..." Otis clutched his teddy bear, burying his chin in its soft fur. "S...Some clothes...p...pencils...glue...a...a...and...and m...m...my notebook..."

"Oh! A notebook, huh? You like to draw?" Abram asked, eyes lighting up once more.

"Y...Yeah...A...And I...I cut stuff out from...from the newspaper mommy and daddy u...used to read a...and I...I put it in there, too..."

"Do you write in it?" He asked.

"Mm-hm...Sometimes..." He said, avoiding eye contact with Abram; instead, he stared at the teddy bear's face.

"Do you think you could show me sometime?" He asked. "I would love to see your drawings. I bet they're wonderful!"

"Th...They're not...I...I'm not very good..."

"Oh, you're just being modest! I'm sure they're great."

Otis offered a small smile. "Maybe..."

"I love to see you smile, you know that?" Abram said, voice soft and loving.

Otis blushed brightly, burying his face in his bear.

They ate, and once Macie had cleaned up, she pulled Otis's chair over in front of Abram, joining them in a circle. Otis began to tremble, and Macie noticed him squeeze his bear, just as she had told him to do.

"Sweetie...We want to ask you about something. And we want you to know, no matter what you tell us, we won't be mad, okay?" Macie began. "But we do want you to tell us the truth. We want to know what happened so if you need help, we can get you what you need okay?"

Otis nodded, tears beginning to form in his eyes from pure fear.

"When you were upset last night when we found your food stash, and I put you on the bed, you begged me not to do something to you. You said I could hit you, which I would never, ever do- but you begged me not to do something else. What is that something else?"

Otis shook, beginning to whimper and sob. He was absolutely petrified. What if he answered and they hurt him like his daddy did? But what if they made him feel better? It was a risk he had to take. There was no feasible way out of this situation that he saw.

"A...Almost every night...D-daddy...R...really hurts me..." He began.

"And how does he do that, Otis?" Macie asked, eyebrows knit in concern.

"He...He..." Otis swallowed heavily. "He u-undresses me..."

Macie closed her eyes, swallowing a lump in her throat. She had feared this the most. She had prayed that this wouldn't be his answer.

"A-and...H-he...He...I...I don't know w...what it is, b-but...He calls it 'fucking' a-and it really h-hurts..."

Abram's face turned white. "Otis-"

"A...And I don't understand...why...but...White stuff comes out of me a...and he tells me that means I like it...I don't! I hate it! It hurts so much and it makes me feel so yucky and dirty but I don't know why and he tells me I like it!" He began to sob hysterically, clutching his bear and burying his face in it entirely. "And sometimes he puts his...his thing he hurts me with that...that I have too...I...In my mouth and he makes me suck on it and I hate it, too! And...And then warm stuff fills my mouth and he makes me swallow it!"

Despite himself, Abram began to cry with Otis. He drew the small boy in his arms, rocking him and squeezing him tightly in a warm embrace. Otis drew away in awe. He had never seen another man cry before. He was horrified, being in Abram's arms, but he felt, instinctively, that he wouldn't be harmed.

"W...W...Why are you crying?" Otis asked.

"Because a little boy like you should never have to go through that. Ever. Any of it..." Abram sobbed. "And I'm so, so sorry that it happened to you."

Macie sat, shaken by the entire situation, dumbfounded.

A few days later, they drove Otis to the doctor's office again. He seemed content, knowing that he hadn't been harmed before, and had no fear that he would this time.

The doctor gently peeled his shirt off, examining the bruises and welts that he had seen before.

"These seem to be looking much better." He praised. "And proper rest and food is doing wonders for him, it seems. I see a little nurturing love hasn't hurt, either." He smiled softly at Otis, who was still wary, but calm.

"Doctor..." Macie spoke. "A few days ago, he told us about...Some of the abuse he's been through...It...seems as though his father sexually abused him...Repeatedly..."

"What...?" The physician murmured, stunned. He turned to Otis. "When was the last time your father did this to you, son?"

"Uhm...Th...The day they picked me up..."

"And how often did it happen?" He asked.

"A...Almost every day...S...Sometimes a few times in a day..." Otis seemed confused. Why was this important?

"Okay...Macie, Abram, I'm going to need you to keep him calm. I'll have a nurse hold him down if need be. But I need to do an exam..."

"Alright..." Macie answered hesitantly. She and Abram approached the exam table, handing Otis his bear. "Here, sweetie. You just hold onto this, okay?"

"W...What's happening?" Otis asked.

"It's okay, sweetheart. Don't be scared."

"W...What're you going to do to me? W...What did I do wrong?"

"Shhhh, baby no. You didn't do anything wrong." Macie stroked his face. "The doctor is just going to take a look at you where your Daddy hurt you, okay?"

"W...What?"

"It's okay. We'll be right here. They won't hurt you like he did, they're just taking a look to see if everything is okay."

The doctor pulled off Otis's pants and underwear, placing a white paper sheet underneath him. Suddenly bashful, Otis tried to pull his shirt down to hide himself.

"Here, buddy." The doctor draped a blue paper sheet over Otis's lap, fastening it around his waist. "Now lay down for me, okay? On your back."

Relief washed over Otis. Macie and Abram were right. He wasn't going to do what his father had done. He obeyed, looking at his new parents for reassurance as he clutched his bear. Two nurses came into the room, one at Otis's feet, the other at his head.

"Just relax, sweetheart." Macie soothed, stroking his face. Otis nodded. He felt the blue paper being flipped onto his stomach and ventured a look down. The nurse at his head pulled the blue sheet up to hide what was occurring.

"This will be a little uncomfortable. Just bear with me, okay?" The doctor called from behind the sheet.

Otis felt him touching him where he had been touched so many times unpleasantly. He whimpered, squirming. He squeezed his bear, looking at Macie. She stroked his face, trying to soothe him. "I know, baby. I'm sorry."

"He doesn't have the appearance of any STD's..." The doctor muttered. "Now, I'm going to adjust him so he's in a better position for me. But he's probably going to be very alarmed. So please, make sure he stays still."

Otis felt him grab his ankles and place them so that his feet were flat on the table. He felt too exposed as the doctor spread his legs farther. "H...Help me..." He pleaded.

"You're okay, sweetheart. You're okay. It's okay." Macie cooed.

The nurse at his feet grabbed his ankles then, holding him still. The nurse at his head put a hand on his chest.

"Okay. Now just relax, young man. The more still you stay, the quicker this will be over."

And then Otis felt it: that white hot pain he had felt so many times before, that always ended in humiliation.

"Noooooo..." He whimpered, squeezing his bear with all his might, tears rolling down his face.

"I know sweetheart...I know...It's okay..." Macie cooed again.

Otis screamed as the doctor probed more. "STOP! IT HURTS! PLEASE!" He sobbed, desperately trying to struggle. "PLEASE STOP! PLEASE!"

Macie began to sob, her tears falling on Otis's face. "Baby, it's okay. I know you're scared but it's okay...They're not trying to hurt you they're trying to make sure you're okay..."

Abram was silent, head down in shame as he watched the ordeal. He knew it was for the best, but it didn't make the pain in his heart for this little boy vanish.

Otis shrieked. "IT HURTS! STOP! STOP!"

Finally, the doctor wheeled away, snapping his gloves into the trashcan. Macie collected Otis as quickly as she could, holding him tightly to her chest as he sobbed frantically, trembling uncontrollably.

"Shhhh, baby. Shhhh. You're okay. You're fine. It's okay. Shhhhh..." She stroked his hair and his back, bouncing him in her arms as if he were a baby. He wrapped one arm around her neck, the other clinging to his bear for dear life. He buried his head in the crook of her neck, quickly soaking it with tears. "It's okay, baby. It's okay..."

"There...does appear to be some damage...But it should heal with the absence of abuse, now. You can take him home and let him rest. He's had a rough day..."

"Yes...thank you." Abram muttered. They redressed Otis, battling him through his trembling and sobbing, desperately trying to recoil into Macie, who could only push him away, in tears herself, as they tried to dress him to go home.

Once they had him dressed, they paced the hallways of the hospital with him, trying to get him to calm himself down. He sobbed brokenheartedly, clinging to her desperately; his one source of comfort besides his bear.

"Shhh, baby boy. It's okay, Otis..." Once he had quieted, out of actual calm or sheer exhaustion, they weren't sure, they loaded him into the car and drove home. His screams of terror and sobs were replaced with a deadly silence.

Upon arriving home, Macie and Abram sat closely together on the couch, holding Otis between them, wrapped tightly in a blanket with his bear. They sat, holding him together for hours. He was silent and still, except for a few instances where he would shudder, and Macie would sooth him, pressing a sweet kiss to his forehead. He stared straight ahead, eyes wide in terror, until he couldn't hold them open anymore, and drifted to sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

Macie and Abram fussed over Otis that afternoon, holding him and soothing him. He was exhausted from the ordeal. The struggle and fear had wiped him out, and he felt apathetic on top of it. He felt violated yet again, disgusting. Used. He hurt in places that he was used to hurting, but his heart ached more. He thought he had escaped the torture his father had put him through for good. They promised him he wouldn't be hurt like that ever again. How were the doctor's actions different than his father's? They had seemed so horrified when he told them about his abuse. And they had stood by and let the doctor do as he pleased, had even helped him.

"Ohhh, baby..." Macie cooed, kissing him on the forehead. "I'm so sorry you had to go through that."

He hesitated, but spoke. "C...c...can I ask something...?"

"Of course, sweetie. Anything."

"We might not have all the answers, but we'll try." Abram answered.

"You...You said what my daddy did was wrong..."

"Right, sweetie. You didn't deserve that. You didn't like it, no matter what he said or what reaction your body gave."

"S...So...W...When the doctor hurt me today...w...why was that okay...?"

"Sweetheart..." Macie began. "The doctor...I see why you're confused, honey. But your daddy was hurting you just to hurt you. Just to make you cry and to make you hurt. But you...When you go to the doctor's, sometimes things hurt, but they're better for you. Like sometimes you have to get shots, and they hurt, but it's to make you feel better."

"And your father got pleasure out of hurting you, buddy..." Abram filled in. "The doctor doesn't get pleasure from hurting you, he gets pleasure from helping you. He doesn't like hurting you. But he has to sometimes to get you to feel better in the end."

"But I don't feel better...I just feel...nasty...and dirty...like I used to when daddy did it to me..."

"Well, sometimes the doctor has to check and make sure nothing is wrong with you, and that can hurt sometimes, too. He was just making sure you were okay. And buddy...w...what your father did was very, very different from that..." Abram trailed off, silently begging Macie to try and fill in.

"It's hard to explain honey, but you just have to believe us for now, okay? It's like...when someone touches your face, it's very different from when someone touches you in your no-no place, right?" Macie explained.

Otis nodded.

"But it's the same action. It's kind of like that, okay?" Macie asked, stroking Otis's hair lightly.

"O...Okay. I think I understand."

"Do you want to go play or do you want us to hold you some more?"

Otis blushed. "U-uhm...

"Because I want to snuggle you some more." She said, smirking and pulling him against her. Otis giggled, snuggling into his blanket and into the warm cocoon she and Abram made.

Weeks passed, and Otis's hair grew longer, and Macie started to realize just how white it was. She desperately hoped Otis didn't want to shave his head again- she loved the shock of white hair.

"Otis, your hair is getting so long!" Macie marveled, ruffling the white locks.

He turned to her in terror, dropping the pencil he had in his hand.

"Sweetie?"

"P...P...Please don't shave it off..."

"What?"

"Please don't shave it off...Please don't make me shave it off..."

"No, sweetie. I...Why would I?"

"M...Mommy shaved my head...I didn't want her to...I liked my hair...She said it made me look like a freak...if I kept it shaved, I would just look sick...M...My hair used to be long...A...And I really liked it...But...She held me down and shaved it all off..." He pawed at his head. "I really liked it..."

"Well, that's good, sweetie. Because I really like it, too. I think it's very nice."

Otis smiled bashfully.

"And you are most certainly not a freak, young man. Don't you ever let me hear you call yourself that again."

"O-Okay..."

She kissed his head and picked up his pencil for him.

Later that morning, Otis heard the all to familiar sound of a razor buzzing in the bathroom. Tears formed in his eyes. He had been duped. She had tricked him into admitting that he liked something about himself and she was going to destroy it.

Macie peeked out of the bathroom when she heard Otis whimpering.

"Sweetie, what's wrong?"

"You're gonna shave my head! Please...Please don't make me shave my hair off, I like it! Please! Please don't make me!" He began to sob.

"No, no sweetie. I was just trimming Abram's beard. It's okay. It's okay. I won't, sweetie. I told you I wouldn't."

"What's wrong, Macie?" Abram called.

"Oh...Otis is scared we're going to make him shave his head like his mother used to. He must have heard the trimmer..."

"Aww, poor little guy..."

"It's okay, Otis..." Macie said, kneeling down in front of him. "You can look however you want. You can let your hair grow to the floor for all I care, as long as you keep it clean, and as long as you're happy. Because if you're not hurting anyone, whatever makes you happy is okay. Okay?"

Otis nodded, wiping his eyes.

"And if you want to make your hair purple, you can do that too. Although..." She smiled softly. "I really like my sweet little boy with white hair. I think it's beautiful. Now, let me go finish Abram and we can play a game, okay?"

Otis nodded.

That night, he didn't lock his door before he went to sleep. He was beginning to feel safe in his new home. Maybe this couple did actually love him. Maybe he had escaped from the hell he had been living.

Macie first started to hear Otis whimpering when she awoke to use the bathroom in the night. She had heard him whimper in his sleep before- when he had been examined by the doctor. She retreated back to her room, but it wasn't long before she heard him begin to scream. Abram jolted awake, sitting bolt upright when he heard Otis.

"Is that-" Abram began.

"He's having a nightmare." Macie answered, nodding. They both traveled to his room, kneeling beside his bed.

"No! No daddy! Please! Please don't hurt me anymore! I hurt so much! Please daddy! Please!" He thrashed about, beating back invisible hands.

"Do we wake him up...?" Abram murmured.

"I...I don't know..."

"Mommy, no...noooo...Don't take my bear...Please...I'll be a good boy...I...I'll let daddy h...hurt me just don't take my bear...I'll be good for him..."

"Oh, god..." Macie gaped in horror.

Otis began to sob in his sleep, clutching his stuffed bear. "D...Daddy!" He cried.

"I can't take this anymore..." Abram shook Otis lightly. "Buddy...buddy wake up. Wake up...it's just a dream..."

"Nooo...Noooooo...Please! Please stop! It hurts too much! STOP! PLEASE STOP! AAAHH!" He sobbed, jolting awake and sitting up, wide eyed.

"Shhh...It's okay. You're alright. You're fine." Macie soothed.

"It's okay, buddy. It's just us..." Abram added.

Otis panted, bewildered, finally breaking down into tears.

"You're okay, buddy. It's all okay..." Abram soother. He and Macie climbed into bed with Otis, holding him and soothing him.


	6. Chapter 6

Otis began to grow healthier as he was cared for: he put on some much needed weight, and the sickly gray color left his cheeks. Though he was still pale, he had a vibrant rosy tint instead of a ghastly pallor.

The sun shone through the windows of the house and Otis sat watching the birds flit about the yard as he munched happily on breakfast.

"Honey...Do you want to go to the park today? It's such a nice day outside."

"Huh?" He asked, cocking his head.

"Th...The park, sweetie...Haven't you ever..." She sighed. "The park is a fun place to play, sweetie. Would you like to go?"

"S...Sure..." He said, bashfully.

"Finish your breakfast as we'll go, okay?"

Once they arrived, Otis stared with wonder at the playground. No other child was there, but there were brightly colored contraptions that looked so foreign to him, he had no idea what any of them were for.

He clung to Macey's pant leg as they approached the gate.

"What's the matter, sweetie?" She asked, stroking his hair.

"I...I don't know what to do..." He admitted.

"What?" Abram asked, looking at Macey for any kind of explanation.

"He's never been to a park, love..." She answered.

"But...the swings...Haven't you ever been on swings before? Or a slide?"

"No..." He murmured, shaking his head.

"Sweetheart..." Macey sighed. "You're shaking...It's okay, honey..."

"I'm sorry..." He whimpered.

"No, sweetie. No. no. There's nothing to be sorry for." Abram knelt in front of him. "Let me show you what all this fun stuff is, okay? Let's go play!" He scooped Otis up and took him to the swings. Still timid at first, it wasn't long before Otis was romping with Abram.

Rain began to pour down on them after a few hours, and they rushed home, shivering, teeth chattering.

"Sweetie, why don't you and Abram go up and get some warm pajamas on and I'll get you some hot chocolate."

"Hot chocolate?" Otis asked, cocking his head. "What's that?"

"It's..." Macey sighed.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" Otis jumped back, mistaking Macey's anger at his parents for frustration with him.

"No, no, sweetie. I'm not mad at you. I'm mad at your parents for what they've done to you. My sweet little boy. Never even had hot chocolate."

Hesitantly, he muttered. "What's chocolate...?"

"Oh, it's delicious." Abram answered. "You'll love it. Come on, buddy. Let's get you into some pajamas." The boys hurried up the stairs, and Macey made a mug of hot chocolate for each of them. Otis and Abram returned, and they curled up on the couch together, watching the rain pitter patter against the windows.

"Careful, honey. Don't burn your mouth."

"Mmm!" He muttered into the mug once he had gotten a taste. Abram and Macey laughed.

"Does it taste good?" Abram asked.

"Yeah!"

"I told you, buddy!"

It wasn't long before Otis had finished his mug and settled down under a blanket, sleepy and cozy. He nuzzled up to Macey, who lovingly stroked his hair until he fell asleep.

A few more weeks passed, and Otis began to settle in more and more. He still flinched and was unsure of many things, but Macey and Abram knew it would take a long time before he was broken of those habits.

One morning, Otis didn't wander down the stairs like he always did. As it approached afternoon, both parents began to worry. They climbed the stairs, creeping into his room.

"Otis? Where are you, baby?" Macey called. Her heart pounded. He wasn't in his bed.

"Buddy, where are you?" Abram whispered, distraught. They looked under his bed- he wasn't there, either.

They heard a feeble cough coming from his closet and tore over to it, ripping the door open and peering inside.

Otis sat in the far corner, obviously trying to hide. He shivered under his blanket, which was wrapped tightly around him as he huddled on the floor.

"Ohhh, sweetie! What're you doing in there?" Macey asked, crawling back into the closet, crouching in front of him.

He whimpered, flinching away and shivering- or shaking.

"Ohhh, no sweetie." She drew him into her arms. "Baby, you're burning up!" She observed, pressing a hand to his forehead. She picked him up and took him to his bed, tucking him in neatly and calling for Abram.

"What's the matter?" He asked. As he crossed into Otis's room, the little boy quivered under the covers. His body ached, and he didn't want to be hit. It would hurt so much worse.

"I think you need to call the doctor. He's got a temperature...And I can tell he doesn't feel good. Look at his sweet little face...He's so ashen looking...I think his body aches, too. He really moaned when I picked him up..."

"Where was he?"

"Hiding in the closet..." Macey answered Abram with remorse. "I think he's scared we'll hit him, or maybe he hurts and he's afraid we'll hit him..."

"I'll go get a cool wash cloth. Wipe down his face and put on his forehead, you know?" Abram spun on his heels to collect the supplies.

"Do you ache sweetie?" Macey asked Otis, who nodded slowly. "Does your throat hurt?" He nodded. "Aww...Do you want anything?"

"Sleep..." He croaked.

"I'm sure, buddy. We'll call the doctor and see what we can do, but you can sleep, okay?"

"Doctor...?" He questioned.

"I know last time was bad, honey. But it won't be like that. He'll take a look at your throat and up your nose and then take your temperature, and that'll be it. Okay?"

"Okay..." Otis whimpered.

They called the doctor, who came immediately out of concern for Otis's condition. He may have been in good hands now, but he hadn't been for much longer, and he was still recovering.

"Hey, buddy. I heard you're not feeling good?" The doctor knelt in front of Otis's bed. Otis's eyes widened in fear. "I know, I know last time we met wasn't a good time for you. But I had to do it to make sure you were okay. Do you understand that?" The pale little boy nodded. "Okay. You're not gonna run away from me, are ya?" Otis feebly shook his head, staring at the doctor through heavy lids. He stretched his hand to caress Otis's forehead- the little boy flinched, but soon whimpered and slumped into his pillow again. "You're really feeling nasty, aren't you?" He asked, Otis nodded. "You're burning up, kiddo...Can you open your mouth for me and say 'aaah'?"

Otis did as he was told, and the doctor looked down his throat, then up his nose.

"Okay, buddy. You're going to be fine, but you'll feel yucky for a few days. So I need you to eat some warm soup and hot tea and drink lots of water and anything that'll make your throat feel better. Okay? And you need to sleep a lot. So make sure you're comfortable and settle down in that bed and go to sleep." He left to inform Macey and Abram. "He's got strep throat. Nothing too serious. I'll give you an antibiotic to give him twice a day for seven days. Poor kid can't get ahead."

"Our poor baby..." Macey muttered.

The doctor smiled softly. "He is cute as a button, though. Hope he settles down."

Leaving after giving Macey and Abram the medicine for Otis, he shut the door behind him, sighing.


	7. Chapter 7

Otis recovered a bit more slowly than a normal child would, but that was to be expected, considering he wasn't very well nourished.

But before too long, he was back to romping with Abram at the park, laughing and giggling like a normal boy should. It warmed Macey's heart to see that little smile and to hear him laugh. He had gone through so much hell already, she was just happy that he was happy.

Her thoughts were disturbed by Abram, shouting. "Otis!"

She rushed over to them and knelt beside Otis, who was crumpled on the ground. "Sweetie! Are you okay?!"

His face was crumpled in excruciating pain, but he nodded.

"Honey...Do you need to go to the hospital?" Macey asked, taking his head in her hands.

"N...No..." He answered, sitting up slowly and shaking his head as if he was shaking something off. "I...I...I'm okay."

"Okay, honey. Can you stand up?"

"Yeah..." Otis had fallen heavily on his right side, and he used his left to stand, limping heavily for a moment on his right until he got himself straightened up.

"What happened?" Macey asked.

"I...I left him for a second...I thought he was okay. He was climbing and he was doing so good...He must have slipped..." Abram muttered. Macey gently caressed his cheek.

"It's not your fault and it's not his fault. Accidents happen." She soothed.

They went home, tucking Otis in like they always did. He hissed in pain when they caressed his hip where he had fallen.

"Are you okay, buddy?" Abram asked.

"Y...Yeah...Just...a little sore, I think..."

"Okay. Let us know if you need anything, okay?"

Over the next few days, they noticed Otis wasn't playing very much, nor was he using his right arm very well, if he did at all. He limped heavily, still, though that could easily be explained by tenderness in the area that he had fallen on.

Abram looked at Otis suspiciously across the breakfast table. He hadn't eaten much, though he usually ate a fair amount. His eyes looked glazed as he slumped in the chair. "You okay, kiddo?"

"Yeah..."

"You're not feeling bad again, are you?"

"No..."

"I really think you should get checked out at the doctor's. That was a big fall, buddy."

"I'm okay..."

"I know, but I still think it would be good just to make sure.

"Please don't make me..." Otis begged.

"Okay, that's how I know something is wrong. You never ask for anything or contradict us. Buddy..." Abram knelt in front of Otis. "It's important that you're healthy. We love you and want you to stick around with us, okay? So you've got to be in top shape. Come on. We'll get in the car and go."

Tears rolled down Otis's face.

"Shhh, no buddy it's okay. It's okay. We're not upset with you. You're not going to be punished..."

Otis whimpered as he began to sob quietly.

"What's wrong, sweetie? Why are you upset?" Macey asked.

"I was trying to hide it...I tried so hard..." He whimpered. "M...Mommy a...and Daddy...if...if they knew I was hurt they...they would just make it worse...and they liked it when I hurt...so I didn't want to make them happy...but it hurts so bad..."

"Shhhh...Well, we don't like it when you hurt. So we're going to get you fixed up, okay? Don't ever hide anything like this from us, sweetie. If you're hurting, we need to know."

Otis nodded. They carefully transported him into the car- Abram had to carry him, as he was in too much pain to walk any farther.

The doctor was none too amused to see Otis lying on his table again.

"Dear lord, this poor boy. What happened?" He asked.

"Well, we were playing at the playground, and he was climbing," Abram began. "and he fell. Kids fall, y'know...But he insisted he was alright, so we just went home. That was a few days ago. Today...He was just...Something wasn't right. And he admitted he'd been hiding his injuries..."

The doctor sighed. "Well, we'll get him straightened out, here." He approached Otis slowly. The little boy peered at him, red eyes still hazy with pain, but very alert. "Shhh. Just me again. We're gonna get you checked out here, okay? We're gonna do an x-ray. Okay? That just means we're going to take a picture of you, and we can see what your bones look like, alright? It doesn't hurt, I promise. We just have to get you there."

He had Abram scrape Otis off of the table and carry him to the x-ray.

When they returned, the films showed a badly broken humerus and top of the pelvis.

"With that hip fracture, there's nothing we can do except for give him time. But we're going to put him in an arm cast. We'll...have to set it, first."

"Oh, god..." Macey muttered, voice trembling.

"Don't worry. I'm not going to traumatize him like that. I'm going to sedate him before we do that."

"Oh thank god..." Abram sighed.

Otis trembled, clutching his teddy bear as the doctor injected him with the anesthesia.

"Shhhh. Why're you shaking?"

"H...h...hurts..."

"Well, we're going to fix it for you. Just relax. Go to sleep. Shhhhh..."

Once Otis was sufficiently sedated, the doctor set the bone, making a sickening crack that made Macey flee the room. He put Otis in a plaster cast, as well as his bear and let him wake up.

"Hey, sweetie." Macey cooed, stroking his face as he opened his eyes. "You're gonna be all better now. You wanna go home?"

Too medicated to really process her words, Otis nodded dumbly.

"Your bear got a little cast, too. He's going to heal with you. Doesn't that sound good?"

"Come on my little stoned albino." Abram chuckled, scooping Otis into his arms. "Let's get you home and in bed."

Otis proved to be slightly fussier when he was in pain, but not by much. Macey and Abram were thankful that their adopted son was so well behaved, but they knew the reason he had had to be.

"Come on, buddy. Let's get you a nice warm bath, huh?" Abram asked, picking Otis up and setting him down on the floor. He leaned heavily on the singular crutch the doctor had given them.

"I...I c..can do it."

"No, buddy. I think you need a little help. You can't get your cast wet, remember? And you're not exactly graceful with your hip hurting the way I know it is." Abram chuckled.

Otis's face turned red and he began to fidget. Macey was at the store- Abram had stayed home to keep an eye on Otis.

"Come on. You don't have to be embarrassed. I'm just helping you, is all. Nothing to be ashamed of." He smiled softly. "Macey's had to help you dress and undress lately, huh? Here, let me help." He gently began to pull at Otis's shirt, and the little boy began to tremble. "Shhh..." He tried to soothe, pulling Otis's broken arm slowly and gently through the sleeve of the t-shirt.

Otis stood, helpless, and began to bite his thumb, shirtless and clutching his bear for dear life as he shook, on the brink of tears.

"It's okay. It's okay, buddy." Abram unbuttoned Otis's jeans, pulling them slowly down over his hips, and then sitting him on the bed to pull them off of his feet.

Otis burst into tears, sobbing and clutching his bear to his chest.

"Whoa, whoa. What's wrong?" Abram stroked Otis's back gently, and Otis screamed. He couldn't struggle away- he knew he would jar his hip and it would hurt miserably, and there was nothing he could do otherwise. "Hey, calm down buddy. It's okay. It's okay. What's wrong?"

"D...D...Don't h-hurt me like Daddy does...please...please don't do it..." He sobbed. "It hurts so much...SO much!" He lost control for a minute, crying heartbrokenly into his teddy bear. "And I hurt so much already, please don't do it to me..."

"Nooo, no no no." Abram gathered Otis into his arms. He screamed once again, but Abram calmed him down. "I would never, ever do that to you, honey. You have to believe me. I would never hurt you. EVER. ESPECIALLY not like that. That is a horrible, horrible thing to do."

"It hurts so much...So much..."

"I'm sure it did buddy. But it'll never happen to you again. I promise." Abram kissed his head. "Now, let me get you all cleaned up and you can get back into bed, okay?"

Otis trembled uncontrollably once Abram had stripped him naked. He helped him into the bath once the warm water was drawn, and began to gently wash him.

"See? That's not so bad, huh?"

Otis shook, watching Abram with wide, fearful, apprehensive eyes.

"Shhh...You're fine, buddy. You're fine." Once Otis was clean, Abram helped him back out of the tub, drying him gently, and helped him get dressed. "There, see? The bad thing didn't happen, did it?"

Otis shook his head.

Abram stroked his hair gently. "I promised it wouldn't."

Otis settled into his bed once more, clinging to his bear.

"We're never gonna hurt you, Otis. We won't let anyone do that to you ever again." He kissed Otis's forehead and left the room.


	8. Chapter 8

Otis lay happily under the warm blankets, snuggled beneath them as rain poured down. He finally felt relaxed. He knew they wouldn't hurt him- especially not like his parents did.

"Aww, buddy you all cozy and warm?" Abram asked.

"Mm-hmm." Otis mumbled.

"I hate to break you out of your cocoon, but it's time to get up. Come on. I've drawn you a nice warm bath and we can get you all nice and clean. How are you feeling?"

"I'm okay." He answered. "I've been a lot worse..."

Abram sighed. "I know buddy. Come on." He gently lifted Otis, carrying him to the bathroom. "Now, remember last time? I didn't hurt you last time, did I?"

"No..."

"And I'm not going to hurt you this time, either. Okay?"

Otis nodded. "Okay..." He answered as Abram slowly and gently undressed him, then lowered him into the tub.

"So, you're birthday's coming up. You're going to be 8 years old!"

Otis gulped, falling silent as Abram scrubbed him clean.

"What's wrong?

"L...Last birthday...A...All I asked for was for them t...to just love me...I...I just wanted a hug...Or...Or for them to not hit me for a day..." He paused a moment, contemplating. "Th...They didn't hit me...B...But that's when...That's when they started...u-uhm..."

"Oh...Buddy, I'm so sorry...Nothing like that'll happen this birthday, I promise. It's going to be great!"

"W...Why?"

"Because your birthday is a celebration of you! We're going to make a cake and get some ice cream and you get a present!"

"I...I don't deserve it..."

"Yes you do. Don't say that. Come on." Once Abram had cleaned Otis, he helped him out of the tub and dried him off. "You get your cast off of your arm today!"

"Oh!" Otis smiled hugely. "Really?"

"Yep. That's where we're going. That's why I got you up."

The trip to the doctor wasn't nearly as traumatic as other visits had been. The doctor cut Otis's cast off and palpated his hip to see if it was healing. Otis did squirm away from his touches- he didn't like his hips touched at all. People touching him there meant something was about to happen.

"Okay, you're good to go. You can start going outside and playing now, too. Your hip is getting better."

Otis gleefully smacked and sucked on a lollipop on the way home. Once they arrived, Macie and Abram sat him down in the living room.

"W...W...What did I do?" He asked, beginning to tremble.

"Nothing sweetie, nothing. Abram told me about your past birthday, and we...we wanted to tell you something." Macie smiled softly. "You are the sweetest, most wonderful little boy we could have ever asked for. You have been nothing but a blessing to us."

Otis blushed, shifting uncomfortably.

She giggled. "I want you to know how amazing you are. You are so strong and so well-mannered. You are a good boy, Otis. You have brought so, so much joy into our lives. You're our son now, sweetie. And we wanted to tell you...I love you." Macie finished.

"And I love you too, kiddo." Abram chimed in.

Tears welled up in Otis's eyes and he flung himself into their arms, sobbing. He was overjoyed- he had longed his entire live to hear those words. Longed so much to be loved.

He went to bed that night, fully accepting that he had been blessed with a new life. And it would never be like his old one again.

The next morning, he played freely in the yard. The sun was shining, but Macie had insisted on covering him head to toe in sun-tan lotion before he stepped foot outside.

A butterfly caught his eye and he chased wildly after it, passing house after house on the street until he caught it, gently cupping his hands around the delicate creature.

"There you are, you little fucker."

Fear ran up Otis's spine as he stared ahead wide-eyed. The voice was all too familiar, and so was the vulgarity that clung to his words. Humiliation painted Otis's face as he felt warmth run down his leg. He clutched his bear to his chest.

"Stupid piece of shit just pissed himself." He laughed cruelly. "Come here, fuck stick." He took a step toward Otis, who took a step back in return. "I said come here!"

"NO!" Otis took off, sprinting away as fast as he could. Pain shot down his leg from his hip and he fell. His father as hot on his heels, as he tripped over the stumbling little boy as he fell.

"Little bitch!" He growled, picking Otis back up by the throat and carrying him back to the car. He opened the door, threw Otis in, and settled in the front seat. "Your Momma's waitin'."

Otis sobbed uncontrollably. Macie and Abram would be worried sick where he was. He would never see them again, he knew. Not ever.

Once they arrived at the house, his father carried him to his bedroom, throwing him down onto the bed. He felt the cruel snap of a belt against his skin. He whimpered in protest.

"Look at you. You got fat and you have fuckin' long hair. You piece of shit!" Another crack of the belt. "You fuckin' worthless HOG!" Another crack. "You been gone 9 months. That's the same amount a' time you been in your mom's belly. That's uhhh...40 weeks. Uhhhh...40 times seven...that's uhhhhh..." He thought for a moment. "280 days. 280 days you been without a fuckin' boy. So guess what." He smiled cruelly, and Otis whimpered, clutching his teddy bear close. "You gonna get fucked 280 times before we let your little ass go. You been without it too long."

"N...No...No...Please..." He begged, tears running down his face.

"Better keep that bear, boy. You're gonna need to bite down on somethin'."

Otis closed his eyes and trembled as his father stripped him. He knew better than to struggle. It would only anger him. He hiccuped, beginning to sob as he shook wildly.

His father flipped him over and spread his legs, smacking him hard on the ass. Otis whimpered. "Whiny little whore." His father grumbled as he shoved a finger into Otis.

"A...AH!" He cried out, squirming. His face turned a bright shade of red.

"My god, you're tight. Guess they didn't fuck ya, huh? Good. Then I'm the only one that's touched your sweet little ass."

"Please...Please don't..." Otis whined. "It hurts so...m-much."

"Good. I want it to hurt." He plummeted into Otis, hearing the little boy scream only arousing him more. "Oh, yeah. That's it. Oh, god your sweet little ass is so tight." He moaned loudly, fisting Otis's white locks that now hung to his shoulders and grinding his face into the mattress.

Otis clung to his teddy bear, soaking it with tears. At least he had that one comfort- his one proof that good people did exist, and that this wasn't how people were supposed to live.

He felt that white hot sensation travel up his spine and whimpered in protest. He didn't want to do this he wasn't enjoying it. He didn't want this.

He tried desperately to hold back his moan as the sticky white fluid soaked onto his bed. His father yelled, and Otis swallowed back bile, resisting the urge to vomit as he felt that warm liquid fill him.

"You little faggot. I knew you liked that shit." He stood, freeing Otis momentarily, who lay and shook. "Lick it."

"W...What?"

"Eat it!" He grabbed Otis by the hair and shoved his face into the mess.

"Nn!" He struggled, pulling away, face now covered. His father laughed cruelly, twisting his hand and Otis's hair, and pulling him down onto his knees.

"Now, this counts as a half-time." He said as he forced himself into Otis's mouth.

Once his father was done tormenting the poor boy, he tied him up, placing his teddy bear on his chest.

"278 left..." Otis murmured as his blood soaked the sheets beneath him. His face was coated in white slop, and welts were raising on his flesh from his father's cold hands. He fidgeted, unable to sit from the roaring, searing pain.

Hours later, Macie and Abram sat bewildered and exhausted.

"His parents took him again..." She murmured. "They took him back to that hell-house. I know it..."

Abram wrapped his arm around her shoulders. "At...At least he got to hear those words one time...Just the once. Maybe it'll give him strength to carry on."

"I...I still hope we find him..." She sighed, running her hands through her hair.


	9. Chapter 9

His body quaked under his father's weight. He hadn't started yet, but he was going to, Otis knew. He was pinned to the bed by two strong arms, pushing him into the mattress.

"Tim, you're gettin' to have all the fun!" Otis's mother bellowed.

"Well, what do you want, bitch?"

"Let me have a go at him." She smirked. "I want to see what you've been wasting your energy on."

His father scoffed. "You're a waste of energy. You don't want another one of these fuckers, do you?"

"No. But sure would be nice to get some ass-bangin' every once in a while." She growled back at him.

His father released him, but he immediately felt his mother wrench his head to the side by fisting the long white locks he knew she despised. He whimpered in pain and turned to her. It had been eight days since he had been taken back, and he was already questioning whether he really wanted to survive. He peered at his mother through a blackened, swollen eye.

"Roll over." She demanded, letting him go. He obeyed.

"M...Mommy...P...Please...I...I...Can't take anymore..." He began to sob.

"Quit yer bitchin'!" She slapped him across the face. "I fuckin' HATE you! Why would I ever listen to anything you want?!"

Through pitiful sobs and gasps, he begged her, "P...Please j...just kill me...I just want to die...I can't take anymore..."

"Well boy, you're about to be very disappointed." She began to stroke him, and he fidgeted, face reddening. "You're gonna be big like your daddy, huh?" She laughed cruelly.

"W...What're you doing...?" He asked. He squirmed as he became erect. He didn't like this feeling- it was oddly pleasurable. It felt good. But it was his mother. He knew she would only be doing it to hurt him or humiliate him. The way his body tingled, he figured it was going to be to humiliate him, because damn, did it feel good right now.

As she lowered herself onto him, sighing in pleasure, it dawned on him what was happening. Women could hurt you the same way men could- just going about it a little differently. Again, she entwined her fingers in his hair, jerking his head to the side.

She rode him, spewing vulgarities and insults at him until she screamed, throwing her head back and howling wildly.

He felt the pressure build in his abdomen and whimpered. He didn't want this-didn't want this to happen, and now it would appear that he liked it as he felt the warm liquid leave his body and he shuddered, trying desperately to stifle a moan.

"You're nothing but a fucking whore, you devil child piece of shit." She spat, ripping a chunk of hair out of his scalp as she walked away from him, leaving him to curl up on his side and whimper, confusion clouding his mind.

"170..." He murmured to himself, clutching his bear to him.

New year's came, and he was released from the rope that bound him to his bed and lead to the kitchen.

"Here, little fucker." His mother shoved a bowl of something at him, which he ate voraciously, stomach still growling for more.

He heard the TV set in the living room droning on about bringing in the new year. He sighed with a heavy heart, wondering what Macie and Abram were doing. Were they even still looking for him? Or did they move on and forget about the boy with blood red eyes and hair like the moon?

Tears began to fall freely from his face. If there was a God, how cruel was he to have let him taste such adoration and love and to have taken it from him so swiftly, just as he was growing accustomed to their kindness and tenderness? He clutched his bear to his chest- the only remaining proof that he had seen what life should be like. That most people didn't live this way. That what was happening to him was wrong, so wrong.

11: 57, the clock read. For the past 2 weeks since Otis had been back in his parent's clutches, he hadn't been permitted to wear clothes. They wanted easy access to him whenever they wanted to abuse him. Any clothes that he had tried to wear to conceal himself were swiftly torn off, and he was raped for punishment.

"Come here, boy." His father gruffly commanded. Trembling, Otis approached him. His father fisted his hair and forced him to his knees, unzipping his jeans and forcing himself into Otis's mouth. He forced Otis's head up and down as he moaned loudly, crudely. The TV announced the coming of the new year as his father came. "Swallow it. SWALLOW IT, I FUCKIN' SAID!" He smacked Otis on the back of his head and he startled. to his disgust, the white liquid came out of his nose and dripped down his face. His father howled with laughter. "Go another round. Come on now. Make those pretty little lips worth somethin'."

Otis gagged and coughed, spitting his father's on secretions back onto him.

"Ugh! You disgusting fucker!" His father beat him about the face, then drug him upright by the hair and forced himself inside Otis's mouth again.

Otis felt his father's foot move between his legs, and ventured a glance at his face. He was smirking cruelly.

"You're hard. You like this, don't you? You little slut. You like it all. You beg and scream and cry but you get off every time. You're as sick as we are." He scoffed. "Suck it like you mean it, boy." He commanded, moving his foot against Otis. He fidgeted, uncomfortable with the contact. His father had never touched him there before. This was new. His unkempt toenails dug into the sensitive flesh. He hated how his body reacted. He hated this, dreaded every second- why was every neuron in his brain firing for pleasure?

"Don't make him too tired, Tim. I want a go at him."

"Fine, f-a...aaaahhhhh..." He curled his fingers around Otis's hair as he came once again, whimpering in pleasure.

His mother pushed him away from his father, taking him to the floor. "Oh, good. You got him warmed up for me."

Otis whimpered, grimacing as she pressed herself against him.

"Don't pretend like you don't like this, you little piece of shit. You ain't nothin' but a fuckin' whore."

Once she was done, Otis lay on the floor, too exhausted and humiliated to move. Maybe, he thought, just maybe if he didn't move he wouldn't catch their attention.

"Come on, you stupid fat fuck." She grabbed him by the hair and drug him to the bathroom, teddy bear in tow.

She sat him on the stool in front of a mirror.

"No, no no please please don't cut my hair, please..." He begged. "I really really like it please don't do it..." Tears began to spill down his face.

"Awwww, little baby what's wrong?" She mocked. "You don't want me to cut it?"

"N...No...Please...Please I really like it please don't do it...Please let me keep it..."

"If you keep it, you can get lice. And do you think either of us want those? You dirty fucking pig!" She grabbed the white locks, cruelly hacking at them with scissors, uncaring if she cut skin rather than hair.

He sobbed, clutching his teddy bear closely to his chest as he watched the white locks fall to the floor. He caught a few strands in his fingers and stared at them curiously, twirling them and feeling the texture. They looked foreign in his hands.

He saw the glint of the razor in the mirror and froze. It was a straight razor- the one his father used to shave. No shaving lather applied to his head, his mother sheared his scalp. Blood trickled into his eyes as she cut him. He squeezed his bear tighter, willing this to all just be a nightmare and for him to wake up in the comfortable, warm bed at Macie and Abram's house.

His mother sighed sadly. "I wish I could change your eye color. Then I could have a beautiful little boy who's not a son of the devil...And all of this could stop."

Otis sobbed hysterically. It was his fault. All of this torture was his fault and she had just proven it. If he had just looked differently, he wouldn't have gone through any of this.

She shoved him off of the stool once she was done, back into the living room.

"Now what the FUCK did you go and do that for you stupid fuckin' bitch?! I could control him better because I could grab his hair and make him look!"

"Oh, fuck, Tim you wanna deal with that dirty mongrel if he gets lice?!"

' _You could just let me bathe once in a while.'_ Otis thought bitterly as he glared at them, clutching his bear. He hated them, despised every fiber of their being with every fiber of his. Some day, he would get out for good.


	10. Chapter 10

Macie sat and crocheted a blanket for a boy she would never see again. Otis had loved the color blue. He always marveled at bright colors, peering at whatever object so closely, turning it ever so gently in his hands with wonder.

Abram sat, stroking her hair. "There's still hope we'll find him..."

She burst into tears again.

"Please...Please don't hit me anymore..." Otis sobbed, his face bloody and bruised.

"FUCKIN'...IDIOT! HOW DID YOU GET A FUCKIN' STD?!" His mother rained blows upon his frail frame.

"I don't know! I don't know!" He cried. "I don't understand!"

"Because you're too fuckin' STUPID!" She kicked him. "TIM!"

"What?!"

"Go out and get some somethin' for this little fucker!"

"Like what?!"

"I dunno, some antibiotic cream or somethin'."

"What's wrong with him?"

Puss oozed down Otis's legs from above. He could feel the sores itching inside of him, accompanied by a dull, throbbing ache. The sores were on the shaft and head of his member, as well, but inside was the worst...

"YOU! YOU'RE the only one that fucks him up the ass! It's from you!"

Tim smirked, chuckling. "Welcome back present for the little fucker." He retorted as he slammed the door.

"God, you're fucking disgusting...Look at you. Got puss and blood leakin' out of your ass and on your dick. Bet it's all over your balls, too, you little fuckin' pig."

"C-C...Can I shower...?" He pleaded.

She guffawed at him. "SHOWER?! Are you nuts?! You think we're wastin' our water on you? I'll show you shower!" She drug him outside, standing him in the backyard, naked as a blue jay. "Stay there."

He obeyed. She was only gone for a few minutes, and he dreaded what she brought.

The cold water from the hose drenched him and he gasped. It felt like tiny icicles embedding themselves in his back.

"There, you shit head." She drug him back inside, sitting him on the floor. "Now, you hungry?"

"Y...Yes..." He dared to answer through chattering teeth.

"Well, you ain't eatin' until you can earn it again, and we ain't fuckin' you with that nasty as fuck infection or whatever you've got goin' there." She smirked. "Get on your knees like you do for Tim."

"B...But...You...You don't have-"

"Oh, you little shit. You're gonna learn to use that tongue other than for talkin'."

He whimpered as he was forced onto his knees in front of her as she exposed herself.

"See that hole? Stick your tongue in it in a rhythm, just like you do for your Daddy."

He hesitated, drawing away. She hadn't bathed or taken care of herself in days- and the smell was noticeable.

"What're you waitin' for?!" She grabbed his head and pushed his face into her. He obeyed, having no other choice. He tried desperately not to breathe. The smell was putrid- rotten eggs, fish and body odor melded into a disgusting concoction that made the little boy want to vomit. And the taste was even worse. Stale, unclean.

It seemed like an eternity before she howled and Otis drew away more quickly than he should have, he realized, as she grabbed his head again and made him perform the same thing over again.

This time, he did retch as she finished, right on the floor in front of her. Nothing came up- he hadn't been fed in days, and therefore there was nothing in his stomach to vomit.

"Mmmmmm. You know what you're doin', don'tcha?"

He sighed. God, he wished Macie and Abram would steal him back.

Macie and Abram sat in front of the fire, listening to the crackling comfort of the warm.

"I miss him..." She murmured.

"I do too. Such a great kid...I miss his laugh." Abram answered.

"Maybe some day we'll be able to see him again. Maybe some day we'll be able to make up for lost time...I just hope he lives long enough..."

"Me too..." he admitted.

"I was making him that blanket, you know...I think I'm going to keep making it. In case we ever do find him. I think it would be special."

"Of course it would be. Everything you do is special, baby."

She giggled, despite herself.

"Come here, you little fuckin' shit!" His mother cornered him as he held his bear in the bathroom, trembling uncontrollably.

"Since you can't fuckin' keep clean and you're such a filthy animal who wants to act like a pig..." She muttered, and Otis saw something glint in the light.

"W...What're you gonna do, mommy?"

"I'm gonna clean up up a little bit." She answered, smiling maniacally.

She grabbed Otis from behind, getting him in a firm grip. She wrestled him to the floor and wrapped her legs around his, completely disabling him.

"Take a deep breath. It'll be over soon."

She brandished the scalpel and began to slowly slice Otis's foreskin. He screamed in absolute agony and terror.

"Don't struggle, or I'll cut it off!" She warned. "I could slip, you fuckhead."

He tried to remain as still as possible, clutching his bear so hard he thought the stuffing would pop out.

"You like this. You piece of shit you like this pain." She snarled, finally discarding the excess flesh.

Otis lay and trembled.

"Since you can't fuck until you're better anyway, might as well make sure you're gonna stay clean for us from now on. Fuckin' useless prick.

His father returned, tube of salve in hand.

"This should help."

"Give it to me!" She snatched the bottle away from him, spread a liberal amount on her hands, and began to rub it on the affected areas. Otis squirmed in discomfort as her hand entered him from behind.

"Careful, he likes that. You might get him turned on." Tim chuckled.

"Yeah, right. For real." She answered.

"Act like you like it." Tim ordered.

Otis whimpered.

"I said. Act like you like it."

Tears spilled down the little boy's face.

"I fucking swear to god, if you don't act like you're enjoying it, I will demolish your teddy bear."  
Suddenly over-taken by fear of having his one comfort in the world taken away from him, he began to moan loudly.

"That's better." His father admitted.


	11. Chapter 11

Otis lay in his bed, still trembling.

Though he was subjected to the same treatment day in and day out, the shame never dulled. The guilt and disgust and fear never lessened. The pain never numbed, physical or mental.

He wondered how something that hurt him so much could feel so good to his father and mother. What was he missing? Was it supposed to feel like that and he was just weak? Or was he different? Was something wrong with him that he always hurt so bad afterward? He didn't understand how the white stuff that came out of him when his father was finished meant that he enjoyed it. He didn't- not at all. But his father was older and knew more...Maybe he was right...

As his infection cleared up, the pain started to dull. Both his mother and father continued to make him do horrible things with his mouth until they could use the rest of him again. He always felt disgusting after that- horribly humiliated. But with a gun to his head, he didn't really have another choice other than to perform the way they wanted him to.

He dreamed of Macie and Abram. Their loving touches and sweet words. He wished he had believed them when they had said it- maybe it would have made him stronger, would have made this life easier, if he just had something to hold on to. Fear had clouded his mind in the moments, and now he couldn't remember their statements. Maybe that was false, though. Maybe being able to remember would just make the transition harder. He knew when he woke up from a dream about his loving home, and woke up in this hell, it was always a jolt, and he always cried.

It was morning, and his infection had completely cleared. He didn't have that terrible itch anymore, and his father hadn't touched him in that disgusting way to put the cream on him. Maybe they had gotten bored with him again.

"H...Hey...Kid?" His mother peeked through the door. Her voice was soft, considerate. Otis's heart pounded. She had never been like this before. Was she changing? Had they had a change of heart and decided to stop their madness?

"Y...Yes, mommy?"

She sat on the bed beside him, and Otis flinched, curling in on himself.

"Shhhh...It's okay." She cooed, stroking his face. His eyes widened and he stared at her in disbelief. "What? Did you think I was going to hit you?" She giggled. "No. Not today."

He was bewildered. His mother's face was soft and caring instead of evil and hateful, like he was used to. She was a stunningly beautiful woman, if she had kept herself up, that is. Her darn brown hair was cropped short, almost hacked at, and her blue eyes were a dazzling color.

"Come on. You wanna shower?"

"I...I...I would love that!" He said, sitting upright.

"Okay. Well come on then. You can get cleaned up."

Otis's heart fluttered. This was real! He was going to be loved!

He stepped under the warm spray and began to lather himself. It felt amazing-finally being able to be clean again. Days worth of blood and white secretion were scrubbed away, leaving pink scoured skin.

He heard the door open and stiffened.

"H...Hello...?" He called.

He heard his father's laughter as he pulled back the curtain.

"SURPRISE MOTHER FUCKER!"

Otis screamed as his father pinned him against the shower wall by the throat.

"Did you REALLY fall for that?! You're so fucking stupid! How in the HELL could you fall for that?!"

Otis began to sob, the shower hiding the tears rolling down his face.

His father shoved him onto his knees , staring him down maliciously.

"Open wide and say 'aaaaah'" He laughed. Otis choked as his father forced himself to the back of his throat. His father moaned. "Your mother said you were probably hungry. Eat this, bitch." He moved his hips, swatting Otis on the back of the head a few times. "Come on, suck! You know how to do it you little fucking slut! Come on!"

Otis gagged, but obeyed. He knew it would be over faster if he just endured.

"Now, the rest of you is ready for me, too." Moving around him in the shower, he forced Otis onto his elbows. He struggled valiantly, but the slickness of the water gave his father an advantage- he wasn't afraid of hurting the squealing little boy.

"No daddy please don't no please- AAAH!" Otis let out an agonizing scream as his father entered him.

"I've waited long enough you little shit. Oh god...You're so tight again. Mmmm..."

Otis tried to grapple for the edge of the shower to pull himself out, away from the man brutalizing him, to no avail. His father twisted his arm behind his back, immobilizing him.

"It turns me on when you struggle, you little fuckin' freak."

Otis whimpered. If he could just drown in the inch of water at the bottom of the tub, it would all be over. He could be free.

"Did you really think we would be nice to you? Why? what the fuck would have changed us? You're so fucking stupid. SO stupid. You're not worth anything. Those pansy fucks spoiled you. Made you think you were something you're not. You know what you are? A fucking freak. You're the son of lucifer and you'll never be worth anything because no one can ever love you. EVER! You'll never be good enough!"

He could only cry and hope that it would all be over soon. That someday, someone would set him free.

Once his father had finished, Otis sat in the bottom of the shower, boiling hot water cascading down over him, crying. Maybe if he would turn the water as hot as he could stand it, he would feel clean again.

After a few minutes, his mother came and drug him out, beating him until she tired, and left him in his room.

"Stupid little fuckin' shit." She muttered, slamming the door.

He clutched his teddy bear close, trying to push down the sorrow and shame he knew would come crashing down any moment.


	12. Chapter 12

He wasn't sure at what point he had given up. He couldn't remember exactly. He fought and fought, and as he got older, they couldn't control him anymore, so they kept him chained to the bed at all times. Well, except when they were beating him or fucking him.

He could remember when he had become so lifeless. When he had stopped caring what they did to him. It all hurt. It was all humiliating. What difference did it make who was doing what? Memories of a different life crossed his mind every now and again. But he squashed them aggressively. There was no need to pine for a life he would never have- miss people he would never see again. It had been 5 years since he had seen Abram and Macie. They had moved on long ago. Probably had some other lucky little boy or girl. Were they playing with Otis's toys? Wearing the clothes they had bought him? Sleeping in his bed? He hoped if they were, that they appreciated it as much as he had.

Was this depression? He wasn't sure what you would call it. He didn't give a fuck anymore. Knew he would never escape this hell. Not until they died or decided to let him go. Maybe when he was of working age, they would decide he would be more useful for that than their punching bag and dick warmer. He could bring them money. They didn't need to know how much he made. He could hoard some of it away. He could contribute. Maybe then they would treat him better.

Hearing the door click open, he stirred slightly. Staring through bloodshot eyes that were almost swollen shut, he saw his father.

"Rise and shine, fuckhead. It's a new day!" He lightly slapped Otis's cheek. They were swollen from the previous night's beating. He parted Otis's lips with his thumb, then pulled down his jaw. Otis didn't struggle. He was too tired. Too tired of fighting. His eyes, however, still held hatred. Just because he had given up didn't mean he didn't hate them with every cell in his body. He glared, wondering what his father would do.

He forced himself into Otis's bruised and battered mouth, jarring open the clotted wounds and sores.

"Ugh. You're disgusting! You got blood all over my dick."

 _That's your fault, fuck head._ Otis thought, somewhat triumphantly.

"You little bitch. We'll see you later."

The beatings continued to come, but food didn't. 3 days passed without eating. 6. 8. 10. Two weeks passed without food, and Otis's body rebelled against it.

He was in so much pain. His stomach was eating itself, he knew. He had read it in one of the books they had thrown at him. He screamed in agony, wailing and howling desperately without hope. He felt hollow in the worst sense of the word. He knew he wouldn't survive much longer if this kept up.

He screamed day and night until his mother finally opened the door, untying him.

"Jesus christ, here's some food shut the FUCK up!" She snarled, throwing a bowl of rice in his lap and leaving. He fell on it like a rabid fox, devouring every grain.

She hadn't stayed. She hadn't rechained him. There was hope. There was a small glimmer of light.

His body was weak, but he managed to stand. She had left him with a weapon: A fork. He quietly crept into their room, spotting his mother. His father was still out, but would be home soon.

He attacked her, stabbing her in the throat with the fork.

She tried to retaliate against him, but he easily stepped out of the way, letting her fall to the floor to drown in her own blood.

Not long after, he heard the door open. He hid in the closet, waiting for his father to come and realize that his son had escaped.

He didn't leave much time for his father to realize what had happened before he pounced on him as well, pinning him to the floor, sticking the fork through his hand.

"You little miserable fucker!" He tried to fight Otis, but adrenaline had taken over his system. He repeatedly stabbed him with the fork, blood splattering every which way until he heard his father whimper. "Please...Please don't do this."

"All my life I begged you to stop! To not do ONE THING that you ALWAYS did to me! ANYTHING. ANYTHING WOULD HAVE BEEN BETTER THAN WHAT I GOT."

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry...Please don't hurt me anymore."

Rage overtook Otis. He bound his father's hands and feet with torn strips of bed sheet.

"What're you doing?"

"FUCK YOU!" Otis growled, kicking his father again and again. In the face, the stomach, the ribs, until he coughed up blood. "You did this to me EVERY. DAY! I JUST WANTED TO BE LOVED. I JUST WANTED YOU TO FUCKING LOVE ME."

"I'm sorry!" His father choked.

"Sorry isn't good enough. Sorry doesn't take back all the tears I shed for you. All the blood and pain and...and HUMILIATION you put me through!"

"Please, son...Please..."

"I'm not your son, remember? I'm the son of Lucifer!" He spat.

"No...No, I didn't mean-"

"You meant every. Word. Don't try and lie to me now. You can't change it. You can't change what you did to me. You can't ever take that back."

"I can fix it! I can...I can change."

"No. You'll never change. I'm not stupid enough to fall victim to your tricks ever again."

"Please!"

"Shut up. Bitch." Otis growled. "I'm going to put you through what you did to me."

"No! NO!"

Otis pulled down his father's pants, then underwear. He smacked him hard enough to leave a red welt. "Come on, ass in the air, little piggy! Let's go! We're gonna pork! Come on, you little useless piece of shit! I know you like it! I KNOW YOU WANT IT!"

His father shook underneath him.

"I said. Ass in the air." Otis entered him roughly, pounding into him with as much aggression and energy as he could muster in his weakened state. "You like that, don't you? You little fucking whore. You little piece of shit. You like it. Moan. TELL ME YOU LIKE IT!"

"Fuck you!"

"I already am." Otis smirked. "COME ON, YOU FUCKING WORTHLESS PRICK. TELL ME YOU LIKE IT!" Otis swatted his ass again. Reaching to his side, he grabbed the bloodied fork and plunged it into his father's back.

"AH! I...I l...like it..." He murmured.

"LOUDER!"

"I like it! I like it!" He screamed, desperately wishing for the event to be over.

Otis could feel himself getting close when he felt his father shudder beneath him. "You did fucking like it , you little whore! See! I told you!"

"No I don't! No please stop please!"

"Not a fucking chance!" Otis continued as many times as he could before he collapsed on the ground beside his father, who was trembling in a puddle of his own cum. "I hate you." He managed.

"Please...Please no more...It hurts...It hurts so much..."

Fury fueled Otis once more. "What the fuck did you say?"

"I said it hurts! It fucking hurts so much I can't take anymore! Please! IT HURTS!" He begged, tears rolling down his face as he sobbed hysterically.

"Are you fucking KIDDING me?! You called me a bitch and a whiney whore all these years and look at you now! You're crying like a little fucking bitch!"

His father whimpered. "Please...it hurts..."

Otis stood, full of disbelief. "W..What?" He shook his head. "I know it hurts! I KNOW IT DOES! I...You hurt me for fucking YEARS! Every day. In and out you fucking did this to me every. day...And mom fucking beat me!" Tears began to roll down his face. "You liked it! you liked it too! See that puddle beneath you! You must have liked it too! That's what that means right?! You liked it?!" Otis sobbed, unable to regain control of himself. "You...That's what you fucking told me! Were you lying to me?! I NEVER WANTED IT! I NEVER. EVER WANTED IT. IT HURTS..." He sobbed, covering his face. "IT HURTS SO MUCH. BUT THAT MEANS YOU WANTED IT, RIGHT?! RIGHT?! SO YOU WANTED IT TOO!" He leaned against he wall, sliding down until he sat on the floor. "I begged you to stop. I begged you and begged you..."

Still in tears, Otis stabbed his father with the fork, watching the life drain out of his eyes. "I hate you!"


	13. Chapter 13

Adoria rummaged through Otis's drawers, looking for the pair of trousers she wanted Otis to wear to dinner that night. He had conceded to take her out on a date, and she was tired of seeing those jeans that looked like they had been put through a wood chipper.

Something shoved in the back of one of his drawers caught her eye, and she pulled on it gently. Cocking her head, she examined it.

It was a well-loved teddy bear, a light brown with a dark brown nose and two black eyes that smiled back at her. Blood stained it's soft fur in some places, along with other stains she didn't care to identify.

She wondered how many times tears had soaked it's deerskin fur as the little albino clung to it hopelessly.

"Where did you find that?" Otis whispered behind her, frozen. "What were you doing rummaging through my shit, Adi?!"

"I was looking for your black slacks, asshole. You're not wearing those jeans again. But Otis...W...What is this?"

"Fuckin' nothin' put it away!"

"Babe, it's okay. I love you. I'm your wife just...Tell me."

At dinner that night, while Otis slowly ate, Adi stared at him in disbelief.

"Y...Your parents...Just...Grabbed you back?"

"Yup."

"But Macie and Abraham loved you so much."

"Abram." He shrugged. "Yeah...And it was really great with them. First time I ever felt happy in my whole life was with them."

"And that bear was from them..."

"Mm-hm." He swallowed. "I don't know why I kept it. Just...As a reminder there are good people. I dunno. Think about 'em sometimes."

"Have you seen them since?"

He shook his head. "Nah. Probably still in Alabama somewhere."

"Hmm..."

Otis should have known that Adi wouldn't have let the issue drop. Shouldn't have been surprised when she threw their suitcase in the back of her car and shoved him in. Shouldn't have been surprised when they crossed into Alabama.

"Are you excited to see them?"

"No."

"Otis?!"

"I'm nervous. I'm so nervous...What if they WANTED to get rid of me, Adi? What if they never wanted to see me again? What if-"

"Otis, the fact that you kept that bear as a connection to them after all this times proves to me you know better."

He fell silent, clutching the teddy bear. She imagined him as a small boy, clutching it gleefully the day he had gotten it.

When she pulled onto the street where they lived, Otis visibly stiffened.

"Baby?"

"Pull over."

"Why?"

"JUST PULL O-" He gagged, and Adi immediately jerked to the side. His door flew open, almost hitting the curb as he retched.

"Sweetie...It's okay." She stroked his back. "Calm down. You okay?"

He sat back up, wiping his mouth, and nodded. "Y...Yeah..."

"Are you just that nervous?"

"Your driving is shit." He smirked. "N...No...That...That stop sign right there is where he got me..." He sighed shakily. "I...I just...Got that same feeling, is all..."

"Okay...You ready to keep going?"

"Their house is just down here. Make a right at the stop sign it's the 6th on the right hand-side of the street..."

"You still remember?"

He nodded. "Of course I do."

She pulled into their driveway, taking Otis's hand.

"They painted..." He commented. "That garage wasn't there before, either."

"You ready to go in?"

"N...No...You go ahead."

"Sweetie-" She noticed him clutching the bear to his chest, likely just as he had done as a child.

"Just...Make sure they're still living here. I don't want it to be someone else..."

"Okay." She kissed his head before she got out, hopping up the stairs and knocking on the door.

A kind-faced woman answered the door. She was still beautiful, though age marked her face. "Hello! How are you today? Is there something I can do for you?"

"Erm...My husband...is in the car and he...says he knows a Macie and Abram that lived here years ago?"

She smiled sweetly. "I'm Macie. My husband Abram is upstairs. Who is your husband? You look to young to be married to anyone we would know!"

Adoria smiled back. "Well...I have a feeling he's not someone you would ever have expected to see again."

She cocked her head, a frown settling on her face. "You...You're not here to hurt us, are you?"

"No! Absolutely not! In fact, I've brought a basket of goodies for you. I want it to stay a surprise! Go inside and wait and we'll come in, then, if we're welcome?"

"Of course. I'll get my husband."

Adi walked back to the car, collecting Otis and the lunch they had gotten on the way. Macie met Adi in the kitchen, helping her unpack the food.

"Oh! This looks wonderful! Where is your hu-"

"M...Macie?" Otis murmured, standing nervously in the doorway, clutching the bear in both hands still. To Adi, he looked to be on the verge of tears.

Macie let out a pained cry and covered her mouth, her knees buckling. Tears fell from her eyes, and to Adi's shock, began to fall from Otis's.

"D...Do you remember me?" He asked, peering up at her from a lowered head.

"Of course I do, Otis! Oh my god!" She flung herself into his arms, sobbing openly. "My baby boy...My baby boy is finally home..."

"Mom..." Otis choked into her hair, his arms tightly around her.

"I never thought I would see you again..." She pulled away from him, placing one hand on either of his cheeks. "Oh, what a handsome man you've become. Look at you..." She smiled through the tears falling from her eyes. "You're married. You're healthy...You're alive..." She stood on her toes to kiss his forehead. "I never...I thought they would have killed you for sure...My goodness, look at the handsome man you've grown up into...There was never a day that went by that I didn't think about you..."

Adi tried to stifle her sobs as tears fell from her eyes, as well. She turned to see a man with a well-trimmed white beard descending the stairs. "Macie, who-" His eyes widened when he saw Otis. "That...That's not..."

"Abram. It's our baby boy. It's our baby! He's home!"

"Buddy!" He stumbled down the stairs, wrapping Otis in an embrace. Otis began to laugh as he tottered backward from the force of the hug. "We looked for years! We looked for years and we didn't find you! I...We thought you were dead for sure! But...Oh my god, buddy!" He turned to Adoria. "Who's this, Otis?"

Smiling hugely, Otis proudly answered. "She's my wife." Taking her hand, he pulled Adi toward them.

"Your wife!" Abram crowed. "You're our son's wife..."

"Adoria. Pleased to meet you both..." She smiled, wiping her tears.

"You've brought him back to us...Thank you." Abram placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"You let your hair grow long..." Macie smiled, stroking Otis's hair.

He chuckled. "Yeah. Been that way for a long time, actually."

"When they took you back, did your mother...Did she..."

"Shave my head again? Yeah. It was bad again. But...I...I made it..." He shrugged.

Macie smiled at the teddy bear still hanging by Otis's side. "You still have that?"

"I do..." He glanced at Adi. "Adi found it a few weeks ago...And I told her about you and here we are...She found you for me."

"We kept everything as it was, Otis...We always hoped we'd find you...We never gave up on you..." Macie beamed. "My goodness, I can't believe it's really you."

Otis chuckled. "Like it or not, it is."

"We're so glad to see you again, buddy. We never thought we would again..."

Otis nodded. "I thought you...You would've forgotten about me..."

"How could we forget the little boy with hair like the moon, skin like milk and eyes like roses?" Macie asked. "Oh I still remember that sweet little face smiling back at me when I would read you a bedtime story."

"Or how you would get so flustered when we would compliment you or tell you you were a good boy."

"He still does that." Adi chimed in, smirking.

Otis blushed.

They ate together, reminiscing on old times and Macie showering Otis with affection and throwing picture after picture of him for Adi to gawk at. Finally, she left for a moment, returning with a bundle in her hands.

"I made this for you, hoping you would come back to me...Back to us...But you never did...I couldn't wait to wrap your little body in it and snuggle you like we did when you came home from the doctor's that day. I hope blue is still your favorite color." She passed Otis the blanket, so lovingly crocheted by a mother mourning her son.

"It still is...It's still my favorite color."


End file.
